


Mr. Sharp

by Selnyam



Category: Changeling: The Lost
Genre: Fae & Fairies, Fairy Tale Style, Gen, Kidnapping, Mind Manipulation, Transformation
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-03-23
Updated: 2019-03-23
Packaged: 2019-11-28 23:32:07
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 883
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18215144
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Selnyam/pseuds/Selnyam
Summary: The tale of the third Royalty of the Freehold of Fields, Mr. Sharp, The Spring King, the Plucker of Strings.   An NPC in my Changeling: the Lost world





	Mr. Sharp

The music swelled and Mr. Sharp conducted. It was only high school orchestra, but the students all played to impress. It was uncommon for the school to not have an impressive orchestra. All thanks to their excellent teacher. Alastair Sharp had been with the school for   
close to 20 years now, but showed no signs of ever retiring. A taller man, with a bit of a wide stomach, he was a favourite of most of the school. His friendly smile and earnest desire to bring out the best in everyone was almost infectious. Many a promising and powerful local authority had been through his class, and had his help to thank for their path in life.  
He conducted and smiled. This was a very good group this year. They might even get top scores at state. So many promising students, playing such fantastic music. As they played, his memory flared slightly. He continued guiding the music, but felt his mind go somewhere else.   
It was a grand ballroom, and royalty was everywhere. They mingled and chatted behind   
masquerade costumes. It was the most important event of the season, and it had to go perfectly. The imposing figure moving through the crowd would have nothing else. To fail them would cause punishment. The kind of punishment where death would be a mercy.   
From one side of the room, Mr. Sharp played. He'd always been there to play, for that was his purpose. His Master had formed him and the others to be perfect instruments. Alastair strummed the strings that stretched the length of his torso. The sounds were beautiful and he felt them resonate his hollow wooden body.  
Next to him was a woman with long arms, the dulcet sounds of a trombone coming from her mouth as she moved her hands back and forth, in and out. A squat older gentleman sat next to him, thumping on his chest, keeping a decent timpani rhythm. They played with more instruments, a full band standing together. All men and women crafted to perfection by their owner. He began to play the next part of the piece, one of the most beautiful he ever had.  
A strange thing began to happen as he played. As he looked around the room he began to see strings. More than just the strings on his body, there were strings all around the room. A string connecting the heart of the Trombone and the Viola. A string from each of the visitors to the Master. Strings of all colours and shapes. As he played he felt his mind reach out to one of them, the string he saw between the Master and himself and touched it. Knowledge Flooded his mind. He saw the Master capturing him as a human, wandering a dark wood. He saw the Master carry him to a dark room. He saw his body reshaped into a living cello. He saw his mind warped and his past hidden from him. He saw his Master's desire to keep him forever.   
Shocked he felt his playing falter. Thankfully it was during a point where he took a break in playing. As he sat he felt his mind reach for that string again. He had to know. So he reached out and plucked it. The Master jumped up.   
"STOP! STOP THE MUSIC!" All heads turned to look at their benefactor. The imposing figure marched to the band and loomed over the instruments. Alistar quaked as a large hand reached out and rested on his shoulder. His Master simply stood and stared at him. After a few moments Alistar reached out, focused his will, and plucked again.  
"You have done well. I grant you your freedom." spoke his Master.The rest of the next few days was a blur. He fled the castle, running through long trees and weird bushes until he found himself standing by a road, tall unfamiliar buildings in the distance.  
He came back to the present, and looked around the room to his playing students. It only took a matter of focus to see their strings. There he saw one between two of the students. As he touched it he saw they were both attracted to the other, but both too afraid to ask the other out. A simple pluck and one of them gained the courage.   
Another, and a young man who was nervous about doing well on the Algebra test this afternoon. He knew the material that would be covered, but the nerves might make him sick or make mistakes. A simple pluck and the nerves left.  
Mr. Sharp liked helping his students. It was easy to see why most students left his class feeling happier and better. Another string and he saw a student who was furious at Mr. Hendricks, the Biology teacher. He had failed the student on the last few tests, and the child felt this was unfair. A simple pluck and the kid decided he would slash one of Mr. Hendricks tires. At the last Teacher's council meeting Mr. Hendricks took the last piece of coconut cake, and Mr. Sharp hadn't received any. Sometimes you had to keep the other teachers in line. Mr. Sharp was the master of playing the strings, and there would be none who could best him.


End file.
